The Blair Bitch Project
by Frenchiestfries
Summary: There are two sides to every story: this is mine "How I, Blair Puderick, was cruelly crowned Hogwarts' own *Queen Harlot* after a series of cheap choices and miserable misunderstandings" A tale of fighting foes, barbarous bullying, fluctuating friendship, dreadful decisions and love in the midst of chaos
1. Chapter 1

**THE BLAIR BITCH PROJECT: Chapter I: How I got stuck with Pettigrew.**

* * *

"Hey Sharron."

"Hey Girl. Pass me the toast, will yah?"

I oblige my best friend's request as I plump myself on the Gryffindor bench next to her.

During the summer, she had removed her braces, discovered Muggle contact-lenses and purchased a stock of anti-frizz hair potion. Only a week after her makeover, she modeled for **Witch Weekly**'s _Robes & Rogues_ photo shoot and has since become one of the most sought-for girls at school.

Yawning, I ask the aforementioned diva sleepily:

"What class do we have this morning?"

"Potions."

"Awww man. Way to start 6th year!" I complain as I pour cornflakes into my provided bowl, "I swear Slughorn has a grudge on me! I don't even—"

"Good morning darling Lilypaaaad!" Sharron carelessly interrupts my ranting as she salutes the other Gryffindor girls in our year. I curse inwardly at the thought of having to small talk over breakfast with the 'popular type'.

"Hey Sha-sha! Hello Blair! How are you two fine-looking minxes doing in this early morning?" the red-haired beauty called back lightheartedly.

Ok fine. I'll admit that Lily Evans is friendly enough. Scratch that. Make it: 'Lily Evans is adorable.' She's the kind of girl that's perfect in every way: grades, character, looks, popularity, boys, taste, you name it! The kind of girl you should be hating out of jealousy, but she's so damn nice that you just can't. Know what I mean?

"Yo. Can you pass the coffee?"

Thalia and Marsha, on the other hand, are all too different from their idol. They're the type of flighty young things that's minds revolved around two subjects and two subjects only: boys and beauty. All those successful in these areas receive their immediate admiration and all those that aren't, well… let's just say they didn't receive their attention.

To make things short: I'm not secretly rejoicing at the fact of having to be in their presence. I don't despise them as long as they keep out of my hair. I'm sure the feeling is mutual.

"Hey, freak. Are you ignoring me?" Marsha persisted with an irritated edge to her usually composed voice.

"Come now Marsha, don't be crabby." Lily intervened airily, breaking away from her budding conversation with Sharron. "Besides, Blair's no freak."

"Yeah Marsha, Blair's no freak." Thalia chimed in sweetly. Did I mention they backstab each other?

"Freak was a joke, right B.P.? Just an affectionate nick-name between old friends." And she bates her eye-lashes playfully, silently challenging me to deny our oh-so-beautiful amity. Instead, I just chug down what feels like half a gallon of orange juice and, after 'later'-ing in the group's general direction, make my way out of the Great Hall.

_Gryffindor my ass._ A little voice cheekily resonates in my thoughts. Meh. I'm not in the mood for a quarrel. Besides today is the first day of school: nothing, and by that I mean NOTHING, will ruin these 24 hours.

* * *

"This year, as well as the work in class and the expected amount of assignments, you will also be preparing an additional two Analysis Portfolios." At these words, the classroom erupted into a chorus of not-so-stifled groans. Extra homework? Was he joking?

Unfazed, the potions teacher continued his tirade: "Professor McGonagall and I believe this task is a brilliant initiative for you young students: it will permit your budding intelligence, perseverance and creativity to blossom!" Another wave of grumbles echoed through the classroom at the mention of the tawdry metaphor.

"Now, just a couple precisions before you choose your partners: The study will be on the subject matter of your choice (relevant to the 6th year curriculum of course) and the required length is of five and a half scrolls, complete with diagrams and sources. The first semester project is due in February, the second one in June. Any questions?"

Slughorn. You are the sunshine of my life. How, please enlighten me, did you and your self-centered mind ever come up with such a vicious program?

"—that's right Mr. McCormick; you will be doing two of these this year. And yes, Miss Simons, you can choose your partners, but it can't be the same one twice. Anymore questions? No? Good. Go ahead and find your ally: be sure it's someone you like! After all, you will be spending many hours in his presence from now on." He announces breezily before chucking at his own lame humor.

Sadistic squib! I abhor you with every fiber of my body, you disgusting toad-like, megalomaniac—

"Excuse me? Beatrice is it? We're the only ones left so… Will you be my partner please?" a squeaky voice interrupted my mental assassination of the potions teacher. I turned around.

"Peter Pettigrew?" I wonder aloud. He was the person I least imagined myself talking to. Not that I find him disgusting or pathetic like Sharron, it's just that he and I revolve around two very different planets and I never thought we would collide. Ever.

"Yes."

"Umm… I mean…" Glancing on my right, my brain confirms with a pang that 'Lilypaaaad' and 'Sha-sha' are paired together as well as everybody else. Hurt, I answer slowly, guarding my voice from sounding too resigned to my fate: "Yeah. Ok, let's do this."

"Thank you! See you in the library Friday after lunch?"

"Uh-huh."

"Until then, Beatrice."

"Blair."

"Pardon?"

'"It's Blair."

"Oh. I'm really sorry." He added with a pitiable air. It looked like he was genuinely embarrassed for not knowing my name. Huh. What a weird persona.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. See yah later, I guess."

"Ok."

Uuugh. I hate awkward conversations. There so, well, awkward. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one that tosses and turns at night whenever she recalls the many uncomfortable moments of her short life. All those around me just seem so carefree! At home or at school: I don't know how they do it, and it bothers me. Not that I care that much about my image (it's convenient not to know that many people) but nobody likes being judged.

I obviously need to talk to Sharron. We haven't had a 'spill the beans' emotional laugh-out in a while; just thinking of our past adventures brings a smile to my face. She's such a good friend when it comes to my various forms of complaining! Why she's staying with quirky and immature me instead of joining Lily's group of friends is a mystery.

* * *

"Merlin's beard Blair! I am so soooooo sorry for not being your partner (you know, for the first semester 'Analysis Portfolio')!" Sharron apologized uncomfortably as I entered the Common Room that evening before dinner. She inhales deeply, saving herself from a heart attack and continues just as run-on-the-mill: "It's just that Lily asked, and since you were too occupied staring a hole through Professor Slughorn, I just accepted without thinking. It was just on the spree of the moment type of thing I swear! We can still be partners for the second semester! Please don't be angry with me!"

"I'm not angry with you."

"No, no! Please hear me out—wait, you aren't?" she asked disbelievingly, startled by my forgiving response.

"I like Lily too. I probably would have accepted at your place. Besides, as you said, there's always the second semester." To assure her of my sincerity, I added a nice smile to the lot. How generous and docile I'm proving to be. My mother would be proud.

"You have no idea how relieved I feel right now." Sharron admitted, straightening her robes mechanically.

"I can imagine."

"No you can't. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Not quite—just give me the time to chuck my school bag between my bedposts!" I let in playfully as I lunged towards the Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory Tower, my childhood energy rediscovered.

"Never change, Blair."

"What's that?" I called back from the first flight of stairs.

"Never mind."

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**Ok. Sooo… The introductory chapter. A little boring maybe, but a structure can't stand if its foundations are weak.**

**I'm not going to beg but… everyone likes reviews, so be a friend and leave one if you have time ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**THE BLAIR BITCH PROJECT: Chapter II: How I was banned from the Library**

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The library had never appealed to me. It was a gloomy, quiet sort of place and to most students, gave off an aura of unwelcomeness.

Nevertheless, when the time came for me to meet up with Peter Pettigrew in the sinister place, I went with the most cheerful attitude I could muster. Optimism had never been my forte, but I felt that if I didn't contribute to the feeling of joyful conviviality (however superficial it may be) between us, we would have a hard time being at ease in each other's presence. After all I will be 'spending many hours in his presence from now on' because of the first semester Analysis Portfolio.

Speaking of our Project, what in the Seven Hells were we going to analyze? I don't want to work on an extremely boring subject, but I don't want to do something to hard and uncontrollable either. Uuugh! I just don't know! Friggin' Slughorn. I'm sure all my worries and pains come down to your ugly eight-lettered name.

Thinking over these same thoughts for the umpteenth time, I made my way through the aisles awkwardly, stumbling on piles of discarded books, whispering my curses (in respect of the eerie silence) and desperately hunting for my mousy partner.

Where in Merlin's name is he hiding? And why do these archives have labyrinth-like properties? _Probably so that the librarian, mummified Mrs. Pince, can feed off the souls of the youthful living._ I grin at my own joke. Yeah it's very probable that's the reason. Slughorn and her should team up or even better, marry and—

Suddenly, out of no-where, something grabs my hand and pulls me into a little gap of space I didn't know existed until now, sandwiched between the 'Positively Poisonous and Man-devouring' and 'Broomstick Care and Cleaning' shelves. I yelp in surprise, but a small clammy hand had knowingly positioned itself on my mouth, keeping me as muted as any hardcover in the vicinity.

"Ssshh! Or they'll find us!" a squeaky voice I recognized panted into my ear.

What? What is he saying? He was holding onto both of my wrists now, just as tightly as he did my lips, and proceeded in dragging further into the coil of darkness behind me. What's happening? Why won't he let go? As realization dimmed on me, I started to struggle against my stout aggressor. No! Help! Somebody! Anybody! I tried to scream but, like in all cheesy horror movies, I couldn't produce a sound. Surprisingly, I found that my limbs couldn't or wouldn't move. Pettigrew was strong and my constant wrenching against his rock hard power was making my arms sore.

"Ssshh… Don't worry, it'll be ok." He wheezed, his wretched breath permeating my hair.

No it won't! Let go of me! Help! I could feel tears welling in my eyes, traitors admitting my defeat. Not like this, please. And in a last attempt to preserve myself, I gave in to my animal instinct and chomped at his sausage fingers with all my might. The effect was immediate.

"Ouch! Bloody Fuckin' Hell!" my unassertive attacker shrieked in a high (almost feminine) voice. "Why in the name of the Four Quidditch Balls did you do that?"

As if I'd sit around and discuss _why_! No I, for one, was out of here. Wrists still aching, I untangled myself from his now relenting grasp and, without turning back to see if he was following me, hightailed my way out of the cramped trap. Merlin! I can taste his blood on my lips, he must be really hurt. Good.

Where did I come from? Boy, did he drag me far into his rat's hole. I'm lost. And he'll be coming for me. Shit. Got to get to freedom. I look around urgently, looking for some sort of holy sign of where to go. But the dusty shelves all look the same, glooming down at me. I am so fucked.

No, wait! 'Wicked Wizards throughout Wizardry'! That's in the right direction! Ok! I'm going to make it! I start speeding in the right direction, a hair strand in my laughing mouth. Almost there! Just got to turn this corner and—Ow!

"Ouch! Geez woman! Watch where you're going!" the blundering idiot gruffly exclaimed, but it was too late.

Next thing I knew, I was winded between a sharp elbow and a copy of 'Illustrious Impediments: Volume Three". The klutz had managed to topple several towers of piled books during our collision, sealing both our fates under an avalanche of dusty XVIth century editions.

"Padfoot, you hypocrite! You where running as fast as she was!" a second voice I recognized accused the baboon that had rudely run into me.

Merlin's underwear. I can't breathe under his and thirty encyclopedias' combined mass. Make him get off. Ouch. I'm dying.

"Moony, you're in the way! His scream came from that direction—oh."

"Oh's right." A third teenaged boy had just barged in on the scene, his hair conveniently messy and his glasses hanging off one ear. He and his friend, our year's Gryffindor Prefect, were both gawking stupidly in the face of my memorable demise.

What are they waiting for to come and help us? I struggle under the weight of books and body; wriggling like a worm doesn't seem to help. I look at my comrade in fortune: his handsome face is putting up a mask of pure mirth. Is he thick? In what way is this situation comical? His friends must have been left in on the secret because they too started to bend over in hilarity.

I, on the other hand, was not amused. Funny how being chased by a psycho-rapper can put you in one of those moods.

"Could you please get off me?" I ask through gritted teeth. The personal-space invader stops laughing immediately. All three look at me curiously, as if they hadn't noticed me before.

"Excuse me princess, but that's my line." He answers huffily whilst trying to retrieve his leg from under my torso.

How dare he complain about a position _he_ created? "Excuse _me_, but it isn't."

"Well if I—"

"Ladies, ladies, please. Papa Prongs decrees that you're both equally pretty. Now, we all have things we'd rather do than watch you bicker so just—"

"No fornicating in the library! Where do you think you are? I'll report you!" a piercing screech emanated from the opposite direction, making my hair stand.

Oh damn. Not Mrs. Pince. Save me.

"First I hear an earsplitting scream, then obnoxiously vociferous talking, and then I discover two rambunctious teenagers mating like savages in the E-F aisle! In plain view! Have you no shame? No decency?"

Uuumm… what kind of erotica romance stories have you been reading lately? It _is_ true that Black is squishing poor-little-me under his somewhat muscular body (there's a special place for people that admit things like that, isn't there?) in the most un-gentlemanly manner, but in no way does it imply we were 'mating.' Amongst books. With spectators.

"How dare you disturb the peace in such an outrageous manner!" the Egyptian mummy continued in the same blaring matter, her high-pitched voice easily reaching an astronomical eighty decibels.

Please. I'm going to snap, I swear! I've had a long day and—

"Beatrice! I'm sorry! It's not what you think! I wasn't trying to make a move on you, I swear! It's just a misunderstanding so please—what happened here?"

Oh no. Not Pettigrew. My day just got a whole lot worse. Lucky me. The other members of the congregation do nothing else but stand there powerlessly, a grimace etched upon their faces as the human-banshee proceeds to stabbing our eardrums.

"And you! Were you the one screaming those profanities?"

Be quiet. Now. I can't take anymore.

"I'll have all of your names immediately!"

Please just shut your mouth.

"The Headmaster will hear—"

"SHUT UP!"

Aaaah. Finally. Sweet, beautiful silence.

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**Ok, a little bit confusing, I admit… But bare with me!**

**Promise it gets better :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**THE BLAIR BITCH PROJECT: Chapter III: How I discovered my area of expertise.**

* * *

Ok, so not my smartest move.

The result of my words? Well here I am now, kneeling in a 2nd Floor Girl's bathroom stall, polishing the ol' white ceramic. Makin' it nice and shiny for my fellow peers. A woman has got to do what a witch has got to do.

Hey! Quit laughing at me! Toilet-cleaning is underrated. Uh-huh. That's right. Because I say so. What do you mean 'not convinced'? Fiiine. Let me explain my opinion, justify my answer, blablabla…

First off, (according to stupid Mrs. Pince) sponging is good for me. After all, I'm "building character and servicing the community". Yup, that's me, the good-tempered, helpful, well brought up young lady. I'm just nice like that.

Second reason why this activity is highly productive in its own way is that it's helping me to choose my career. I mean look at me! I'm already at my ninth bowl this evening! Do I smell a future in this area of expertise? Methinks so! Aren't I right spotless toilet n°9? Look how beautiful it is! No intolerable 'marks' to be seen anywhere! There's actually water at the bottom of the bowl! And it's clear! Oh, so clear!

Ok. Confession time.

If you hadn't noticed yet, I'm just a teensy wee-bit more excited than usual. Yeah well… that might be because I might be high on 'Dregin's Dexterous Detergent'. Wait, just let me check: *sniff* Yup. Definitely. That's why for sure. This stuff is more effective than inhaling glue stick vapors, if you know what I mean.

Anywhoooo, like I was saying before being interrupted, I refuse to—

No. Not You. What are you doing in there Missus?

A thin horsy face glares back at me from the mirroring surface of _clear_ H2O. Her thin lips curl into a cruel grin at my pitiable state.

Hell no! Fuck you Mrs. Pince! Why do you have to be so hateful all the time? And I'm sorry for yelling 'shut up' in your face, but you where screaming at the top of your lungs! In the library, no less! Shame on me? No! Shame on you sir, shame on—Oh fudge! Footsteps! Ok, ok: I'm going under cover Mrs. Pince! And don't you dare blow it!

"Just keep scrubbin', just keep scrubbin', just keep scrubbin', just keep—why hello Mr. Filch, didn't see you there! What can I do for you today?" Cue my mastered cutesy-innocent look. Puuuurfect.

The caretaker wheezed in place, carefully inspecting my progress. Satisfied, he grunted and motioned for me to hand over his prized cleaning utensils.

"Yes sir!" I'm already at my feet, hastily peeling the pink latex gloves off my hands and picking up the various discarded antiseptic bottles from the floor. Shakily dropping the toilet brush and soap into the already crammed bucket, I look up to the grown Squib expectantly.

"Out!" Filch confirms briskly, "Be back tomorrow at the same time."

He needn't say it twice. Euphoric, I skip out of the latrines, avoiding cracks on the floor. I only pause momentarily at the door to contemplate the now presentable lavatory, before ungainlishly making my way to the Gryffindor Common Room.

* * *

Uggh. Why do I feel so dizzy? Where am I?

"Hello young lady. Please sit up when you can, so that I can check your reflexes."

Madame Pomfrey? But that means I'm in the…in the…

"You're in the Hospital Wing."

That's the word. Slowly, I push myself up on my elbows. Ouch. My head hurts.

"Why… What am I doing here?"

"The Gryffindor Prefects found you passed out near the portrait hole. They brought you here to me. Drink this." And I feel a glass of rosemary-smelling potion come to my lips. Tastes sweet.

"Oh." Now that my sight had focused, I could see the young nurse clearly. She was sitting at my left, screwing the lid back on a mysteriously opaque jar.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked briskly, waving her finger disinterestedly back and forth in my field of vision.

"I think so."

"Some of your friends came by and left a couple notes and 'Every Flavored Beans'. I'll go get them for you, along with some breakfast.'

'That's sounds wonderful. Thanks." I answered as quickly as possible, flashing a genuine smile in her direction. Aren't I the tamed lion? If I want to get out of here any time soon, I'll have to max the sweet talk.

Once alone, I proceeded to digging through my brain for any memories of the past 24 hours. After a while it all came back: the library, the toilettes and, yes, even the disinfectant. Oh man. How could I have messed up that badly? What in Merlin's name is wrong with me?

Madame Pomfrey reappeared holding a tray crafted in tin. "Here's some toast and jam. And your presents." She handed me a dozen cards, two boxes of Chocolate Frogs and one package of Every Flavored Beans. "I'll be in my office. Call if ever you need anything."

"Ok, thanks a lot." I say, my mouth crammed with bread. I'm famished. Is this why people always leave candy for their recovering friends?

I look through the notes disinterestedly as I fish through the Every Flavored Beans for my favorite: 'Nougat & Honey'. Most of them are polite and socially-expected, like Thalia's ('Get well soon Darling!') and Marsha's ('Class is no fun without you, Freak! ;p'), but others ring a little truer: Lily and Sharron were the ones that got me the Chocolate Frogs and the jelly beans, proof of our everlasting friendship. And then there were the joyful family notes (complete with my younger brother's scribbled drawings of pink and purple bats) and the not so joyful one from my mom ('We need to have The Talk when you get home this Christmas.'). Finally, only one plain parchment card was left:

_Dear Beatrice,_

_We're very sorry for what transpired in the Library the other day. _

_Peter told us what happened and we feel guilty because the reason you misunderstood his intentions is our fault. We were hunting our friend down to give him a wedgie (James bids me to add that it was because he lost a Quidditch bet, and therefore it isn't a form of bullying). So you see, Peter wasn't trying to hurt you, but trying to keep you quiet so that we wouldn't detect him. He feels really distressed that you would think him a violator, and begs you to forgive him and that you would please see him again._

_We also apologize for the incident with Sirius. Had we acted quickly, you wouldn't have gotten into all this trouble. _

_Hope you get better soon,_

_Remus Lupin_

_James Potter (the way you clashed Pince was epic! You Miss, are a true hero!)_

_Peter Pettigrew (Please forgive me!)_

_P.S.: Padfoot stubbornly refuses to sign our letter of apology, but mark our words, he will be sorry soon._

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**A short filler chapter, huh? Well, I don't know about you, but I liked how this one turned out.**

**Same jig as usual: please leave a review if you have time ;)**


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